Somewhere a Clock is Ticking
by somethinprettty
Summary: AU: "Of course, yeah. It's just hard, you know? I mean, you're my best friend and…I've been in love with you all my life. But I'll wait until you're ready."


**Author's Note:** This is just a really long Damon and Elena one shot based off the movie 'The Time Traveler's Wife' with Eric Bana and Rachel McAdams. This obviously isn't an AH story, but it is _definitely_ AU. If you haven't seen the movie, this might be a little bit confusing but if you have any questions, feel free to ask (but you should definitely see the movie, it's so good!). This literally took me all day, so please don't favorite without leaving a review; I'd love to know what you think.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Come back when you can<strong>_  
><em><strong>Let go, you'll understand<strong>_  
><em><strong>You've done nothing at all<strong>_  
><em><strong>To make me love you less<strong>_  
><em><strong>So come back when you can<strong>_

* * *

><p>"<em>I can't sing like you."<em>

_He was only eight years old when his entire world shifted on its axis. His mother laughed, her eyes locking with his through the rearview mirror before shifting to the car seat beside him, eyeing her sleeping toddler. _

"_You're not supposed to sing like me, Damon. You're supposed to sing like you."_

_He sighs heavily, annoyed with his seemingly lack of talent. "I bet Stefan can sing like you when he's older just because he'll want to do something I can't."_

"_It's not a competition, love. Besides, surely you'd rather be really great at something that you love than good at something you like?"_

_He didn't have time to ponder that before their car was spinning on a thin, black sheet of glass. The last thing he saw was his baby brother's emerald eyes, wide and fearful – full of tears before everything went black. _

…

Elena has been waiting for him her entire life. She wakes up in the morning and her heart aches because she misses him so much. She goes to bed at night and imagines that he's holding her close to him, whispering sweet nothings in his ear until sleep finally claims her.

She spends her days wondering why love always seems to be intensified by absence. She wonders how it's possible to fall in love with someone that seemingly only exists in your dreams – but she knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that he exists.

There are times where she's close to giving up on waiting for him. The waiting, it hurts too much. But then she remembers why she's waiting, who she's waiting for, and she fights through the hurt for him.

(She'll always fight for him).

…

She isn't sure if it's the adrenaline or the sheer need to get to him, but that's how she found herself running after him, down the busy streets of New York. She felt like it was gravity helping her towards him, and she's thankful because her legs can't carry her fast enough.

She's shouting his name – her voice drowned out by the sound of cars and pedestrians, but she doesn't care. She'll scream at the top of her lungs if she has to. Finally, the space between them is less than thirty feet and he finally stops at the umpteenth call of his name. He turns around just in time for her to literally throw herself at him.

Damon initially stiffens in her embrace, taken aback by the young brunette's courage. Only when she tightens her grip around his shoulders does it dawn on her that he probably doesn't remember her. That only makes her hold on tighter.

She doesn't care that he doesn't remember who she is because she knows who he is.

(She's always known).

She inhales deeply, breathing him in – the familiar scent of his leather jacket and masked with cologne. She feels him trying to pull away and she finally relents, taking a small step back. Her eyes roam his body freely, drinking him in.

(She can't believe that he's here).

"I'm sorry. Do I know you?"

The question _should_ make her heart ache, and it doesn't because she can't feel anything but happy. She smiles at him – it's tainted with an emotion he can't quite identify. "I don't know how to answer that question for you. It's complicated. I know you but you don't know me, well, not yet anyway."

She can see the uncertainty in his eyes, and she wants nothing more than to take him in her arms and make him remember everything, but she's been through this before, and she knows the routine. "Have dinner with me, tonight. I'll explain everything."

Damon nods. "Okay."

…

"You do understand why it is that I don't know you?" Damon wonders. He doesn't know this girl – but she knows him, like she _knows_ him; understands him, even. It's almost unnerving.

"Of course," she promises him brightly. "When you're older, you'll travel back to when I'm a little girl. I mean, I've known you since I was seven years old, since you appeared in the meadow by Wickery Bridge, where I used to play."

His hand instinctively rises, flagging over the bartender. "I'll have a scotch on the rocks…actually, no rocks just…just the scotch," he swallows deeply, offering Elena a small smile despite the intense bewilderment.

She laughs softly, nervously tucking her hair behind her ear. "You're not really supposed to drink." He raises his eyes incredulously, gesturing for her to continue. "Well you told me that Dr. Fell said that you should stop drinking because it makes you travel."

"Who's Dr. Fell?"

"Meredith Fell, she's your doctor. She's an expert for her work in genetics and she helps you."

Damon breathes a sigh of relief when the bartender arrives with his drink and he downs it in one sitting, wincing as the warm liquid calms his nerves. "Sorry but this is just too much for me."

"I'm sorry. You told me to go easy on you and I'm not," she shakes her head, grabbing something from her purse. "I wrote down every time you came to visit me," her eyes roaming the pages of her journal.

"Well if you always looked like this, I probably visited you a lot," he says lightly, throwing her a smirk. She looks up from her journal, her eyes sparkling with amusement and she lets out a hearty laugh. It's easily the most beautiful thing he's ever heard.

"The last time you visited was when I was eighteen but I've known you since I was seven. It seems as though you go back to the same places a lot."

"Yeah uh, time travelers," Damon's voice lowers, his eyes roaming the restaurant to make sure that no one's listening. "We tend to go back to the same places a lot. It's kind of like gravity, big events – they pull you in."

Elena's smiling now, her smile wider and brighter than he's ever seen her wear. He wonders why he didn't remember her before. _Of course_ he knows her. "I was a big event," she says quietly, her voice soft and gentle, her eyes full of insurmountable awe and affection.

He wonders what he ever did to deserve her looking at him like that. "Yeah," he affirms. "I guess you were but can we pretend just for a minute that this is the first time we've met?" he asks her gently.

She nods, understanding evident in her eyes. "Of course, yeah. It's just hard, you know? I mean, you're my best friend and…I've been in love with you all my life. But I'll wait until you're ready," she promises.

(She'll always wait for him).

…

He waits for the fog to lift from his memory, and it does – and he can finally remember the times he visited her, the times he dried her tears, made her laugh, chased her in the meadow – he even faintly remembers playing tea party with a seven year old Elena at one point.

(He remembers it all).

Later that evening, they take it upon themselves to take a stroll through Central Park. The moonlight hangs in the night sky, only the stars and dim park lights illuminating their walk. Damon's hands are in the pockets of his jeans and hers are tucked underneath her arms. She inhales deeply, the crisp December air filling her lungs.

"So Elena, how are things with you and your boyfriend?" he muses playfully, breaking the silence that separated them. Elena's forehead crinkled together in confusion, a slightly amused smile on her face as she stifled through his question.

"I don't have a boyfriend," Elena tells him honestly, a small shrug of her shoulders and a shy smile on her face.

A smug smile finds itself on his lips and he flashes his eyes seductively at her. "Works for me."

…

They lie on her bed all night and they just _talk_. They talk about everything and they talk about nothing. He says something and she laughs, or she says something and he smiles at her. They try not to talk about the time traveling, but once she brings up their first meeting in the meadow as a seven year old, it's hard to stray from the inevitable.

"I don't think I can get used to this. I keep waiting for you to vanish into thin air."

"It'll happen," he tells her regretfully, his eyes darkening with sadness. She swallows back her anxiety and tucks her hair behind her ear, shifting to sit closer to him. She looks at him, her eyes wide, earnest and curious.

"What's it like?" she wonders aloud, genuinely curious. "Of course I know what it's like to watch you leave but what's it like being the one that leaves?"

He sighs. "Sometimes it feels like you've stood up too quickly. Your hands and feet are tingling, and then they're not there at all. Sometimes it feels like your attention has wandered for just an instant, and then you're standing naked someplace. Maybe you've been there before, maybe you haven't – and you just wait for the fog to lift so you can remember."

She takes a deep breath and nods, her eyes begging him to continue. "But you don't know how long it will last, so you start walking, you find some clothes, then you're like everybody else except that you're stranded and all al one, waiting to disappear. But you get to see people from the past, people who are gone – but you can't change what happens to them. I've tried. It happens anyway."

Her hands are on the side of his neck as she cradles his head, willing him to look her in the eye. When their eyes finally meet, she feels like the room isn't big enough or like the wind has been knocked out of her.

There are so many emotions flashing behind his eyes, too many to identify at once. But his eyes are very real, his feelings very true. His eyes are searching hers too, looking for the slightest sign that she wants to walk away from this – all the craziness that he has and will bring to her life.

(She doesn't think she could walk away even if she wanted to).

Damon slides his hands down the sides of her body until finally landing on her hips, his fingertips touching the exposed skin between her jeans and her sweater. He leans his forehead against hers and breathes her in.

And then, his lips are on hers in a gravity-defying kiss that makes everything okay, even if just for the moment.

His hands are tangled in the dark tresses of her hair while her arms twine around his neck, pulling him closer to her, holding him in place because she'll be damned if he disappears during their first kiss. His lips are demanding, his tongue sweeping her bottom lip until she complies, parting her mouth and giving him _everything_ she can.

Elena shifts her weight until she's straddling him, giving him full access for his hands to roam anywhere they please – her sides, her stomach, her thighs, the small of her back.

"Make love to me," she breathes. Her hands move to the side of his face, her fingers caressing his skin and she presses her lips against his more gently because she _needs_ this. She's gone without him for so long, she doesn't think she can handle one more night. "Make love to me."

"Elena," he breathes her name like it's the most precious thing he'll ever say. She can see the indecision in his eyes – but she doesn't know that it actually _pains_ him, the thought of not having her. He opens her mouth and something akin to a strangled regret falls from his perfect lips and she shakes her head, silencing him with a kiss before he can try and talk his way out of this.

"Make love to me," she repeats, kissing him all over – his cheeks, his jawbones, his forehead, his neck, his collarbone. She can feel his resolve slipping away with each fevered kiss until finally; his hands are on her hips, tugging lightly at the material that separates them.

She complies, lifting her arms above her head so he can pull her sweater off. When he sees her bra-clad chest, it nearly drives him wild – and the desire in his eyes humbles her in a way that should be illegal. He ducks his head and removes his own shirt, her eyes roaming his bare chest with adoration.

Their eyes meet and she's beneath him as she makes her way further up the bed, him following her in a way that is like a predator stalking its prey. Her lip is between her teeth, her eyes dark with lust and acute need (which is more prominent, neither of them know).

His hands cradle her face before making their way down her body, down the bare skin of her stomach and finally landing on her waist. She smiles at him, her fingers moving to the zipper on her jeans. She pulls them down her long, silky way in a way that teases him and aggravates him beyond measure.

The second her jeans are off her feet; he tosses them to the other side of the room, adding to their growing pile of clothing. He's on his knees on the bed as she unbuckles his buckle, leaving fevered kisses on his chest as she does so. When's done, his hands are on her back, gently laying her down onto the mattress so he can gently kiss her lips.

Their hands are intertwined above her head as he kisses her with reckless abandon yet unwavering love and gentle affection. With every kiss and touch, it becomes less about sex and more about acute _need_. "I love you," he whispers in between kisses, each one sending her heart into overdrive.

Finally, their eyes lock for the final time before he's inside of her. Their movements are slow as they take their time to drink each other in. He wants to make sure that no matter where time takes him, he will keep this memory with him wherever he goes. She feels her heart ache with how much she loves him – and she thinks that it'll actually kill her when he leaves.

She spent so long dreaming about what it would be like to have him but now that she has – she doesn't think she'll ever be sated by the hunger he's ignited with her all those years ago. Her heart threatens to soar right out of her chest. Their bodies mold together like a second skin. With every thrust, every sigh and every whispered declaration of love, they fall deeper and deeper in love.

…

"I love you too," she tells him afterwards. They're lying in bed together, tangled beneath the sheets. She's curled into his side like he's the only thing she knows and he's holding her like she's the most precious thing he's ever held. She lifts her head off of his bare chest to look at him through her long eyelashes, and she smiles at him. "I'm so terribly in love with you."

He kisses her forehead before he takes a deep breath. "I never wanted to have anything in my life that I couldn't stand losing," he tells her tentatively. He feels her stiffen in his embrace so he holds her tighter. "But it's too late for that. It's not because you're beautiful and smart or because we just made love – I love you because I don't feel alone anymore."

She squeezes her eyes shut and she listens to the words that he's saying and she can't believe that this is reality – but then she realizes it isn't reality. The reality is that at any given moment, she could be lying in bed, naked and alone. "I don't want to wake up and have you not be here," she admits quietly.

"I'll be here as long as I can."

…

She wakes up the next morning and he's gone.

She cries.

And then she waits.

And waits.

…

"You can't keep doing this to yourself," Caroline said tentatively, offering her best friend a small smile.

Caroline Forbes and Bonnie Bennett are two of the five people in Elena's life that know about Damon. While everyone else tried to convince Elena to go out on dates, Bonnie and Caroline were the only two that understood why she didn't and who she was waiting for. They were playing with her in the meadow that day – it was their weekly tea party, complete with their stuffed animals and favorite dolls.

"It's not that simple."

Caroline sighs, finally taking a seat beside Elena's curled up body on the couch. "I know it isn't but – you can't keep waiting for him. You don't even know when he's coming back or if,"

"He's going to come back," Elena says as evenly as possible, despite the fact that her heart was breaking inside of her chest. She sighs deeply and sits up to face her best friend. "I've been waiting for him my whole life, Caroline. I couldn't change it even if I wanted to."

There is sympathy in Caroline's baby blue eyes as she watches her best friend muddle through this seemingly impossible heartache. "You're worse off than I thought," she muses lightly, a small smile on her face.

Elena smiles back as best she can, shrugging her shoulders. "Maybe I am."

(She's too in love to care).

…

He's on the subway in New York when he recognizes the woman on the seat beside him. His heartbeat quickens inside his chest and he swallows back the sadness to face her, a small smile on his face. "Excuse me, are you Amelia Salvatore?"

The woman with the jet-black hair similar to his and emerald eyes similar to his brother's smiles at him. "Yes I am."

Before he can stop himself, he tells her he loves her. When she looks at him like she might start screaming bloody murder, he backtracks. "I mean I love you work…I love your work. I love your work, your singing. You have a great voice."

She nods, a small smile on her face. "Thank you. I appreciate that. People don't usually recognize me, well not on the subway anyway."

"My name is Damon," he supplies unnecessarily.

She smiles again. "I have a son named Damon."

He's watched his mother and baby brother die a hundred times. He's relived it, tried to change it – but they are still dead. So he feels compelled to tell her everything he can about himself because he just wants her to know that he hasn't forgotten.

He'll never forget.

"I met a girl. And since I've been with her, I feel safe. I haven't felt that way for a long time, not since I was a kid. I wish she could hear you sing."

"Maybe she will one day," she offers hopefully.

"I'm really glad I met you," he says quietly.

"I'm glad I met you too. Make sure that girl knows how you feel about her."

He swallows. "Your son loves you very much."

"I know."

(Even in her death - she knows how much he loves her).

…

He finds himself at his father's house. Even when Damon was a little boy, Giuseppe never gave him the love or affection that he craved. But he checks on him nonetheless because whether he wants to admit it or not – he's one of the two people he has left.

"I'm getting married."

Giuseppe's head shoots up from his tumbler of scotch to look at his son, bewilderment evident on his face. He slams the glass down on the table and runs his fingers through his thin hair, barking out a laugh.

"Who would marry you?"

"Her name is Elena. Elena Gilbert. She's an artist and a writer. I have to ask her first but I'd really like to give her mom's wedding and engagement rings and I think mom would really like that."

Giuseppe rolls his eyes. "How would you know what she would like? You barely knew her!"

"I know her," Damon promises. "I know her now. I just saw her on the subway. I see her pushing me in the stroller. I see her taking Stefan and I to the park. This thing I have isn't' always a curse, Dad."

"Then why don't you stop her from getting in that goddamn car?"

"I would if I could. You know that. I've watched her and Stefan die hundreds of times but I never get there in time to change it."

"I still miss her," Giuseppe admits quietly. "I miss her everyday."

"Me too."

(They miss Stefan too).

…

Ever since he was eight years old – his entire life has been plagued with both the gift and curse of time travel. His life is an entire game, and fate rolls the dice and decides where he goes and when. He can't control it – he can't stop it, he can't slow it down. The rest of his life will be spent being thrust into the abyss of time and waiting for time to slow down long enough to catch a breath.

But now the rest of his life doesn't seem so scary because now, he has something to look forward too when he comes back to reality. Now, he has someone to come back to, someone to come home to.

People say home is where the heart is.

Elena is his heart.

Elena is his home.

…

"Marry me."

It's a Friday night and they're casually relaxing on the couch. She's reading Chicken Soup for the Soul and he's looking at the fireplace when he breaks the comfortable silence that surrounded them.

She's genuinely confused. She's wearing her flannel penguin pajamas and her bunny slipper clad feet are draped over his lap. Her chestnut hair is in a messy bun on the top of her head and she's wearing her reading glasses.

She isn't even sure if it sounded like a question or a suggestion.

"What?"

"Marry me," he repeats, taking her book from her hands and shifting to look at her. "I don't want to spend another day, travel to another place or another time without the knowledge that you are going to be here, waiting for me to come back to you because I will, Elena. I will always come back to you and I will always love you."

"You're serious," she breathes.

"As a heart attack," he muses.

"You want to marry me?"

"I want to marry you," he affirms.

"You want me to be your wife?"

"I want to be your husband."

"I want to be your wife," she affirms quietly, a smile on her face.

"Is that a yes?"

"Yes," she nods reverently, her smile widening with pure glee. "A thousand times, yes!" she says again, throwing her arms around him and kissing his face. "I love you. I love you. I love you."

He reaches underneath the couch and pulls out a little black box and she gasps, her eyes widening when he pulls out a diamond ring. She extends a shaky hand to him and he slips the ring onto her finger and it falls into place like it was made for her.

"As I love you."

…

"I just don't understand the rush," Bonnie says quietly, her eyes wide with concern.

Caroline and Bonnie were the first people Elena called when he proposed. She smiled at him during the whole phone conversation, and he just watched with awe as she babbled a thousand miles a minute to her best friends.

That was two weeks ago.

Despite the fact that Bonnie knows her situation, doesn't mean she _understands_. Elena sighs, running her fingers through her hair, an undeniable smile on her face despite the fact that her fiancé is off on one of his time travels.

"Because I love him," she supplies simply. "And when you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible."

"I can't believe you're getting married in two weeks," Caroline said, breaking the awkwardness in the room. "People are going to think you're pregnant."

In all honesty – she's never thought about children or pregnancy. She wasn't even sure if it was an option. She shakes her head, pushing the thoughts to the back of her mind. She has the rest of her life to worry about motherhood but right now - she has a wedding to plan.

(Mrs. Elena Salvatore. She thinks it has a nice ring to it).

…

As planned, they marry two weeks later.

He disappears into thin air before they board the plane for their honeymoon.

Elena goes to Maui alone.

She misses him every minute.

…

He's waiting for her when she finally gets home and she runs into him, breathing him in because even though it's only been four days, it feels like a lifetime.

"I was with you in the meadow," he tells her quietly, a small smile on his face when talking about her seven year old self.

"You were?"

"Yeah. You were jealous of my wife."

"I was," she affirms. "I used to try to convince myself that you married someone fat with a mustache."

"Well, that _is_ my type."

"Shut up and kiss your wife," she demands, pulling his body flush against hers.

…

Months pass and he's in and out of her life like a stranger.

They're apart more than they are together.

…

"I'm sorry I missed your birthday."

His voice brings her back to reality and her head snaps up from her laptop. She suddenly feels like all the air has been sucked out of the room. It's when she finally gets a bearing on her surroundings when she realizes that he looks like he's aged about ten years – and unfortunately, he probably has.

She shrugs her shoulders and offers him a small smile, setting her laptop down and shifting on the couch to make room for him. He runs his fingers through his hair, and sighs heavily, taking a seat beside his wife. It isn't until she curls into his side and he takes her in his arms that he realizes how much he misses her when he's gone.

She buries her head into his chest, inhaling the scent that never wavers no matter what time he lands himself in. despite the fact that she's angered by the circumstances that surround their marriage, she loves him nonetheless. He kisses her temple, his lips lingering on her soft skin.

"Just hold me."

And he does.

…

One month later, he's gone for two weeks straight. She tells him that she _hates_ it when he's gone.

"I'm here now."

"Yeah?" she challenges. "For how long?" she nearly shouts.

"It's not my fault, Elena. I tried everything to get back to you. I tried getting drunk and nothing happened. I don't _like_ leaving you but I can't control it."

Her eyes fall on the clock on the stove and she takes a deep breath before grabbing her purse and her coat. "I have to go; I have a meeting with a realtor about a small studio downtown. I can't work here anymore, there's not enough room and it's too frustrating."

"Can you postpone your meeting? I just got home."

"I know but I have to go now. My life doesn't stop because you aren't here," she says quietly, her voice tainted with sadness.

"Can we talk later?"

"I've been sitting here, waiting to talk to you for two weeks. What do you want to talk about, Damon? How bad it feels to sit here and wait for you? I'm tired of talking, Damon. I'm all talked out."

And then she's gone.

…

He crawls into bed with her later that evening and wraps his arms around her small frame.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, kissing her cheek gently.

She doesn't say anything.

…

He brings her to a television store later that week. "What are we doing here?" she grumbles, genuinely confused. "We don't need a new TV."

"Just watch," he whispers, a smirk on his face. Her forehead furrows together in confusion.

_Somewhere in America, moments from now there could be a new millionaire. Good evening everybody, I'm Andie Starr and I would just like to wish each and every one of you good luck. _

Elena's thoughts are interrupted when Damon slips a piece of paper into her hand. "What's that?" she asks, eyeing the paper.

"Good luck," he whispers back, winking at her.

_Our first winning number is…_

"Seventeen," Damon guesses, his voice hushed.

_Seventeen._

Elena's forehead furrows together in bewilderment as she looks at her husband.

_Up next…_

"Maybe a twenty three," he muses quietly.

_Number twenty three._

"Or even a thirty two."

_The next number is thirty two._

Her eyes are wide like saucers now, her gaze averting between her husband, the television, and the ticket in her hands.

_The next number is…_

"How weird would it be if it was a forty?" he asks redundantly.

_Forty!_

"There's no way the last number is a twelve. That would be creepy."

_Our last number is…twelve! So here are your winning numbers: 17, 23, 32, 40 and 12. Congratulations, you just won five million dollars!_

Elena gasped and turned towards her husband, her voice hushed. "You can't do that! That's cheating!"

Damon rolls his eyes and takes the ticket from her hands. "Yeah, you're right. Let's rip it up."

She grabs it before he can rip it into two. "No," she says sheepishly, her cheeks flushed with color.

(She thinks this is a step in the right direction).

…

They go house hunting the next day. Their realtor is close to firing them.

They've seen everything from three bedroom houses to one bedroom condos to swimming pools and gyms to triple car garage but none of them seemed to have that homely essence – until they arrived at house number seven.

House number seven with the four bedrooms, three baths, in ground pool and double car garage plus workhouse in the backyard was their home.

(They're finally home).

…

They decide to turn the workhouse into a painting studio for Elena. They're in the middle of renovating it when Elena asks a question that unnerves them both. "Do you know when you're gonna die?"

"I can't be that bad a husband, can I?" he asks, a smirk on his face. She folds her arms across her chest and glares at him, her eyes begging him to not make light of this moment that's been weighing heavily on her. "No, I don't."

"I've never seen you older than thirty five," she says quietly. She takes a deep breath, a hopeful smile on her face. "Maybe you stop traveling. Maybe somebody finds a cure. There's gotta be some drug you can take – someone that can help."

"Elena, I don't think –"

"We're having a baby."

"What?"

"I think it's time you contact Dr. Fell because we're having a baby, Damon – and I can't do this without you," she tells him, not bothering to hide the tears as they fall down her cheeks.

He sets down the paint brush and crosses the room in four strides, taking his wife in his arms. He kisses her forehead and she buries her head into his chest, breathing him in for the umpteenth time.

(She's still not used to him being there).

"I'll call Dr. Fell."

…

"How did you say you found me?" Meredith Fell asks, a confused smile on her face as she sits down.

Damon coughs awkwardly. "I traveled back in time to visit my wife when she was a little girl and she says I mentioned a Dr. Fell, a geneticist and I have a genetic problem that's called Chrono-Impairment. That's a term that you came up with, or so my little girl version of a wife told me but it's just a fancy way of saying I'm a time traveler."

Her forehead crinkles together into confusion before she breaks out into a half smile, her eyes narrowed. "Did my students put you up to this? Or my husband's students? Because I have to admit, you're good. You got me," she tells him, laughing.

Damon rolls his eyes and gets up from the chair, anger rolling off of him in waves. "I knew this was a waste of my time."

And he's out the door. He doesn't even make it to the parking lot before his cell phone rings in his pocket. "Hello?" he answers, trying to keep his tone even.

"Mr. Salvatore?"

"Speaking," he says uneasily.

"Mr. Salvatore, my name is Laura; I'm a nurse here at the Presbyterian Hospital. Your wife has just arrived."

"I'm on my way."

…

"Hey," he says quietly when he enters her hospital room.

Elena smiles weakly at him from where she lies on the hospital bed. She looks exhausted, both mentally and physically.

"I lost the baby," she tells him, her voice barely above a whisper. Her eyes are glistening with tears of despair until finally; she closes her eyes and curls into a ball.

He sighs, his heart aching for his wife and their unborn child. Her face crumples into agony and she lets out a strangled cry, and all he can do is take her in his arms and hold her while she weeps.

While _they _weep.

…

"Dr. Fell," Damon says stiffly.

"Mr. Salvatore, it's a pleasure seeing you again," she says nonchalantly, not bothering to look up from the files on her desk.

"My wife had a miscarriage." She removes her glasses and looks at him, her expression sympathetic.

"I'm very sorry to hear about that, but I don't see what I can do to help."

He looks at her, his eyes pained and his face serious. "What if the baby's a time traveler like me? What if it traveled out of the womb?"

"You need help, but not the kind I can give you."

"How can I prove to you that I'm not crazy? I'll take a test and then if there's nothing on it, I'll walk out of here and you'll never have to see me again."

"I'm calling security," she tells him evenly, her hand reaching out for her phone. His hand shoots out and stops her and she lets out a startled gasp, her eyes wide and alarmed.

"The grant," he breathes. "The Smith grant – did you apply for it yet?" She cocks her head to the side and eases her hand away from the phone, and she backs away from him, confusion and amazement in her eyes.

"How did you know about that?" He looks at her pointedly, as if the answer was the most obvious thing in the world. She sighs and shakes her head, biting out an incredulous laugh before she reaches for her phone again. "This is Dr. Meredith Fell; I'd like to order an EEG, an EMG and a PET scan as quickly as possible, please. Yes, that will be all for now. Thank you."

He nods his head in acknowledgment. "Thank you."

"I'm not doing this for you," she tells him honestly. "I know what it's like to lose a child. There's no pain like it. My heart goes out to your wife."

…

Dr. Fell watched with her own eyes as he disappeared from the machine in the middle of the testing.

She believes him wholeheartedly.

She's determined to help them.

…

"I really am sorry for the wait – but as you well know, these tests are normal but what we're looking for is quite unusual," Dr. Fell says with a small smile before putting on her glasses and showing Damon and Elena the tests. "Your brain emits a blast of electromagnetic energy akin to an epileptic's right at the moment you travel. There are drugs for epilepsy we can use but all of these drugs are way too strong for a fetus if indeed, it is a similar condition which is causing the miscarriage."

Elena offers the doctor a small smile, her hand instinctively moving to her abdomen. "I'm ten weeks in now, and we've never been that far along," she looks to Damon hopefully. "So maybe the baby isn't going to travel."

"We're going to find out," Dr. Fell assures. "We're going to take a look at Damon's genetic code. We'd like to take a look at the clock genes and then I would like to run the same test on the fetus." Her heartbeat quickens beneath her chest as she automatically folds her arms across her body in a feeble attempt to protect the little life growing inside of her. "Don't worry; it's a noninvasive extraction of cells. Hopefully we'll get some sort of indication as to how we can bring you to full term."

…

He shifts in his sleep, his hand instinctively reaching out for hers. His fingers touch the surface of the mattress and he cringes, his heart stopping inside of his chest. He reaches over and turns on his lamp, his eyes wide as he looks at the liquid on his fingers.

"Elena," he says tentatively, shaking her lightly.

"What?" she grumbles.

"You're bleeding."

He holds her while she cries.

He breaks down when she isn't watching.

…

"We could adopt."

Elena scoffs. "What's wrong with me wanting one normal thing in my life? I love you. I want to be a mother. I want to bear a child, your child. Why can't I have that?" she sighs, running her fingers through her hair.

"I've never seen us with a baby," he says tentatively, his voice low. "I've traveled to the future and I've never seen it."

"I don't want to hear that," she tells him simply. He opens his mouth to argue – but the look in her eyes tells him to pick his battles.

This is not one he would win, even if logic and reason were on his side.

…

"Damon," Dr. Fell says tentatively, her eyes wide with concern as she takes back the form. "I need to ask you one last time. Are you absolutely _sure _you want to do this?"

"Yeah. I signed the forms, didn't I?" he asks bitterly.

She sighs, her eyes wide with sympathy. "I know you signed the forms but vasectomy's are rarely a one-party decision," she reminds him.

"This time it is," he says simply.

The procedure is less than an hour long and he walks out of the hospital feeling dirty and ashamed – like he betrayed his wife and he can try to bend it anyway he wants, but he did. He went behind her back and willingly denied her of the one thing she wants most.

…

He finally comes home three hours later. He carefully avoids her gaze and he feels his heart break when she smiles at him because he doesn't deserve to have her looking at him like that. Not after what he's done. "I did something. It was hard and you won't like it."

She stops chopping peppers for dinner and looks at him, confusion in her eyes. "What'd you do?"

"You won't like it," he says again.

She rolls her eyes, a slightly amused smile on her lips. "So why'd you do it?"

"To save us from fighting but it felt like something I had to do."

She chuckles lightly - desperately. "Oh please don't tell me something that's going to make me hate you."

He takes a deep breath. "I went to the hospital and got a vasectomy," he says evenly. Her face remains expressionless, although the look in her eyes conveys more than words ever could. "I'm not going to have a child with the same genetic disorder as me - "

"How dare you?" she asks him, her voice barely above a whisper. "You tricked me. You came into that forced yourself into the heart and mind of a little girl," she tells him, shaking her head. She fights the urge to outwardly laugh at the situation she's found herself in. "What, you think I wanted this life...this husband that disappears without any kind of warning? Do you think anyone would want that? Who would want that?"

"Don't act like you're the victim, Elena," he says angrily, folding his arms across his chest. "You had a choice."

She shakes her head. "I never had a choice, Damon. Don't you get that? I never had a choice. Not with you."

...

He disappears an hour after their fight. He calls her in the middle of the night, asking her to come and get him. When she arrives, she notices that he looks visibly younger. _At least_ a year younger.

She takes a deep breath and readies herself for the consequences of what she's about to do.

When they arrive home, she shamelessly seduces him - over and over and over again, until she feels sated and he's too tired to move. He wonders about where her sudden bout of stamina came from, and she tells him that she just really needed her husband.

The old him, at least.

...

Things haven't improved since their big fight. It isn't until one day six weeks after he got the vasectomy that he finally attempts to break through the cold war between them.

"Can we be in love again?" he shouts over the sound of the vacuum. She stops the vacuum and puts her hand on her hips, an amused smile on her face. "Elena, I'm actually dying here. Yeah, the angry sex is great - but I'd rather have my wife back."

She licks her lips and sighs, cocking her head towards the couch. The two of them simultaneously take a seat and she takes a deep breath to face him. "I'm pregnant."

Worse case scenario invades his mind like a tidal wave and he stands up, instantly angered by the thought of her with another man. "You...you...how?" he asks, giving her the benefit of the doubt.

"Do you remember that night a few weeks ago when I came and picked you up in the middle of the night?"

"And you shamelessly seduced me? Yeah. I couldn't move the next day," he babbles until finally - it clicks. "I feel so used," he whispered.

"It was before the surgery. It's not like I cheated on you."

"Yeah, you kind of did."

"I wouldn't of had to if you didn't go behind my back and get a vasectomy in the first place. "

He sighs. "Elena - if we lose this baby or if something happens to -" he trails off.

"New rule," she demands, putting her hands on her hips. "We're not gonna fight anymore. We're not even going to get excited. I mean, if stress is what's causing the time traveling, then we're gonna give this baby the most serene gestation on the planet, okay?"

"Okay."

...

Dr. Fell smiles as she moves the wand around Elena's abdomen. "Eighteen weeks and perfectly healthy," she says happily. "You said you wanted to know the sex?"

"We do," Elena said happily, squeezing Damon's hand in excitement.

"Well," she says excitedly. "It's a boy."

...

He disappears the next day and finds himself walking in Central Park. He's planning on hailing a cab when he's thwarted by someone _literally_ throws themselves at him. His first thought is that he's meeting Elena again - but the person that has latched itself onto his leg is _not_ Elena. "Uh, are you lost, kid?" Damon asks, looking around for a sign of a mother in distress.

The brown haired boy pulls away, a wide grin on his face. "Daddy," he drawls out. "It's me. Sam. Well actually, it's Samuel Damon Stefan Salvatore, but everyone calls me Sam. It's okay. This is first time we met. How do you do?"

"How old are you?" he asks cautiously.

"Eight," Sam answers without missing a beat. "How about you?"

"Thirty five," he pauses - remembering what Elena once told him.

_I've never seen you older than thirty five._

He shakes his head, ridding himself of these dark thoughts. "Tell me about you, how's school? What are you learning? Are you a skirt chaser?"

"Not much at school," Sam says. "But I read all the time. I read Harry Potter by myself but mom and I are reading Lord of the Rings. Grandpa's teaching me the piano and I heard Grandma sing at the opera, it was kind of boring but pretty cool."

"Wait," Damon says, gently grabbing Sam's shoulders. "You time travel?"

He smirks. "Mom says you and I are exactly alike but Dr. Fell says I'm a prodigy because sometimes, I can chose where I go."

"You can control it?" Sam nods. "When you go and when you come back?" He nods again.

"I'm learning, at least. I saw you and mom walking down the street before I was born. You were arguing."

Damon chuckles. "Probably." He smiles at his son, tousling his chestnut brown hair playfully. "It's so good to meet you, Sam. It's really good to see you."

"Me too, daddy." Sam smiles, throwing his arms around Damon's neck. "I really miss you."

Damon stiffens and pulls back slightly, his forehead furrowed together in confusion as he takes in his son's sad expression. "How long were you when I died?" Sam bites his lip (in the same way Elena does when she tries to hide something albeit a high shopping bill or the last piece of chocolate cake). "It's okay, you can tell me."

"I was five."

"Five?"

He nods, tears welling up in his blue eyes. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have told you."

Damon smiles tightly. "It's okay. I've just never traveled past my own life before. It's kind of cool, huh?" Sam nods, wiping the tears from his eyes. "How's your mom?"

"She's okay. Sad, but okay."

Their moment is short lived by the sound of his teacher calling his name. "You better go. I don't want you to get into trouble."

"Bye daddy. I love you."

"Bye Sam. I love you too, buddy."

...

"Sam." Elena looks up from the cake she's in the middle of scarfing back when he finally comes back, a small smile on his face. "We name him Sam. Well, Samuel Damon Stefan Salvatore to be exact," he tells her with a smirk.

She grabs her milk and swallows, not bothering to wipe off the milk mustache. "You met him?"

"I did," Damon tells her evenly. "He's so beautiful and smart. You're gonna love him so much."

Elena smiles, tears in her eyse. "So everything's gonna be okay?"

"Everything's gonna be okay."

...

Sam's arrival is nothing short of amazing.

He wasn't even two minutes old before everyone was wrapped around his little finger.

...

"Damon," she calls, leaning against the window pane. "Do you know who Sam's playing with?"

"It's Sam," he says simply, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"I know but who is he playing with?"

"It's your son. They're both your son."

"Oh."

"Is it too weird?" he asks hesitantly, genuinely curious.

"I think it's kind of magical."

...

Sam's fifth birthday rolls around quicker than they thought. It isn't until the day comes to a close that Elena finally gets a chance to pick her son's brain. "Did you have a good birthday?" she asks as she's tucking him into bed. He simply nods. "Honey, you know if something's bothering you, you can tell mommy?"

"I can't."

"Why?" she asks.

"Daddy told me not to."

She smiles at him, tousling his brown hair. "And you love your daddy - but sometimes daddy can be wrong. You wanna tell me what it is? It's okay if you do."

He sighs. "Promise?"

"Promise."

"Daddy's gonna die when I'm five years old."

She looks at him, alarm in her eyes and she fights back the tears she feels building behind her eyes.

She can cry later.

Right now, she has to dry her son's tears.

...

She finds him standing on the back porch. "I finally got him to calm down."

"He told you?" Damon guessed.

"Why didn't you?"

"Yeah, cause that's a conversation I want to have: _hey honey, I'm going to die when our son is five years old. Can you pass the potatoes?" _

She takes a deep breath and then a small step forward, her hand gently reaching out to touch him. He finally turns to face her and she cradles his face, her hands on either side of his neck as she wills him to look at her. "Yesterday, today, tomorrow - you are it for me, Damon Salvatore. I wouldn't change one second of our life together."

And she kisses him. it's soft, quick and gentle.

(The kind of kiss that you'd do every day for the rest of your lives).

"I love you."

(He loves her so much).

...

He's at death's door six months later.

He dies in her arms.

...

Sam tip-toes into their bedroom one afternoon two weeks after his father's death. She's curled up on Damon's side of the bed, tears running down her nose and onto the pillow. He sighs and hops up onto the bed, curling into his mother's embrace. She hugs him close to her.

They cry.

They sleep.

...

Life happens again three years later, right in the woods behind the backyard.

"Daddy! I knew I'd see you again!"

Damon's forehead furrows together in confusion as he takes in his son's appearance "How old are you now? When is this?"

"I'm ten." Sam beams.

"And your mom still leaves clothes?" Damon muses.

Sam shrugs. "Here and at the meadow. She says you never know."

Damon notices the group of people that he's playing with. "Who are they?"

"That's Uncle Tyler and Aunt Caroline's kids, Connor and Sophie."

"Wow, they look so grown up."

Sam turns to his best friends. "Run to the house and tell mom he's here!" The twins nod and take off in the other direction, their legs threatening to fall off their small bodies. But he doesn't care. He turns to his dad and takes his hand and they begin walking through the large yard, towards the house.

They reach the end of the woods, the beginning of the yard when she throws herself at him, twining her arms around his neck and breathing him in. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming? I would have waited for you."

Damon caresses her soft cheek, his eyes locking with hers. "I don't want you to spend your life waiting."

"I love you," she whispers, a tear rolling down her cheek.

"I can't stay," he says quietly. She nods.

"I know."

And then he's gone.

...

"Sometimes I think he's in the trees," Sam tells her one evening when she's tucking him in. "Deciding when to come out and surprise me."

She smiles at him. "I used to think that when I was a little girl; that he was always there, even when he wasn't."

...

She takes a deep breath and walks out onto the back porch. Her eyes are staring up at the moon as it hangs in the night sky and she sees the first star of the night.

She smiles.

"I can't see you," she breathes, closing her eyes and nodding. "But I know you're there."

Wherever he is, he looks down on her and smiles.

_I'm here_.

* * *

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